SuperCam

And on a day like today where all is bliss and the weather is back where it used to be, the torp pulled the worst joke ever. For those of you who don't want to see that blog here it is.

What's the opposite of Christopher Reeve?
Christopher Walken

I'm not sure if laughing my guts out at that can be construed as insenstive to the plight of the paraplegic and as a potential ticket to hell but if it is, I don't really mind.

Interesting how in html all that is really important is in quotes and the rest is what you see here. But that isn't what we're talking about today.

Technology it would appear is leaving me behind. Now despite public opinion and accusal that yours truly is electronically challenged or a geek depending on which side of the fence I'm on I used to think that I was in tune with the times. The usual digital watch, a Nokia 3315, 15 inch CRT monitor, you know the works.
It turns out that I'm so far behind times that like others I know, I should start refering to myself as a fossil. Got accused of premature senility or rather premature aging today but that's a different story.
It all began when I took some pictures (incidentally the Family Jewels one) on my digital camera and wanted to upload it from the shrink's comp. Always insisted that XP despite it's microsoft lineage was rocking simply because of the plug and play support that it has. Plug and play has conotations I don't want to discuss here. But strangely despite the right cable and the correct port, the computer and the camera just refused to hit it off. So I decided to hunt for the drivers online and this is what I saw.
It's 2001. In the Canon Museum. Which makes sense why XP doesn't know it and trying to download a driver is like trying to get metallica mp3s of the web. It of course doesn't help that a million cell phones now have 2 megapixel cameras. Not with an optical zoom but still...
Like all the old things that I cling on to shall stick with it though. Mostly because I'm broke, but partly because it can do this.


Chiaroscuro. Perhaps.

For T. Take it.

Couldn't resist putting this up.

Enjoy

Ghana and a contraceptive problem

A small African country with Burkina Faso (the capital of which incidentally is Ouagadougou) and the Ivory Coast as neighbors has an area approximately 7% of ours. The population is about 2% of a billion and the per capita of $2,500 as compared to around $3,300 that each of the Indian billion earns. The differences in GDP of course are similarly comparable. So how is a Sub-Saharan country like Ghana (which has a currency called cedi (seedy?)) giving Brazil a hard time at the World Cup? And a pretty bad time at that. Final scores are 3-0 in Brazil's favour thanks to a 5 min killer by fatman Ronaldo then some controversial offside-not-called goal by Adriano some where around 43 min into the first half and finally ze Roberto in the 84th. But Ghana's been attacking with some statistically insignificantly higher possession time. It's insignificant but its higher. The question is a cliched one. How come all we have to show is an Army guy who can shoot straight? Oh there is the lady too... What lady? Sania Of course. If she'll stop drinking so much Sprite and lose about 10 pounds she might cross the court a little faster and stop making excuses about clay being boring.

Tragic the state of the world.

And all our favourite news channels will pick up some obscure villages in Bihar and Kerala and show how little girls are bending it like Beckham. Thankfully not like Posh. Which is more of a Times NOW thing. Speaking of Times, Zoom and everything that's not right, MIDDAY's Bangalore edition is on the streets. Bangalore Times finally has competition to sleaze away ad nauseum.

In other bits of information the Government has always proposed that 72 condoms are sufficient for a couple for a year. How? It isn't a newly wed couple we're talking about. In that case 72 may not last out the honeymoon. It's the average indian frequency which is 72. There is of course the story of filling a jar with marbles everytime sex happens in the first year of marriage and then taking them out everytime after the first year. The result, in most cases, is that the jar never gets empty. But i digress. When we first read of this number it seemed woefully inadequate. It still does but prompted some socio-statistical thought. 52 weeks in a year. Knock off a week a month for that time of the month. I know it's not a week but yeah you get the drift. That leaves 40 weeks of potential... time. Now is twice a week a normal average? One would have to take into consideration pesky kids who can't sleep alone, pesky guests who won't sleep, familial structure (joint or otherwise), marital discord... but I think it should be ok.

I think I'm getting to a point where I have more time than I know what to do with. Or just don't want to do what I need to.

The importance of having Vaastu

Remarkable that I'm writing again with such short notice but it turns out that an idea, if left stewing for too long, gets over cooked. So when it's al dente and perfect we'll dish it out to the world for consumption. But before I start into the grouse of the day, the last post seems to have been spared by the vultures who hover in anticipation over the blog waiting for that one opening to swoop down and claim their pound of literary flesh. This of course might be inviting trouble but I'm almost beyond caring. (Note : Almost)

Currently eating a piece of blue (yeah like the beast or nightcrawler) candy sugar from Nepal. Trippy stuff. But that isn't what we're talking about today. It's my abode, my home, the roof over my head, the architectural wonder that forms a large part of today's discussion. The lesser part is as usual occupied by the Provider. Considering I live in the back of beyond in any case and it's a joy and wonder that I have electricity and running water, security was an issue when we first shifted in. It's still an issue if you thought development would have caught up. So it was decided that apart from the regular locks that doors come with, the front door would be fitted with a technologically advanced "Godrej" Lock. This of course is notwithstanding an Alcatraz style metal door that reinforces the front.

The point of all this is that the lock costs just about as much as the GDP of a small African country and within a month of buying it it refused to lock or unlock from the inside.

So yesterday the Provider locked yours truly in by locking this Vertibolt 2C or whatever instead of the other lock. So what's to be done but find another exit which the house thanks to vaastu or feng shui or whatever the architect believed in then, has plenty off (about seven at last count).

What is with these vaastu people? I'm wary enough of them not to hunt them down on wiki. They might decide to change the direction my life is headed without me even knowing. Take a couple of houses that I had stepped into my mistake. 3 storeyed but since the mad man had decided to put a room at every floor AND in between and exits facing every direction except South by South West... Or was it North by North East. Don't remember now but it's the same as the movie. Some third floor balcony has a staircase. Good if there was a fire in the 2 and a half-th floor I guess. And they wanted us to live there. And pay them rent. And drive the car into the garage, between which and the rest of the house there is no wall.

Watched the Code last night. I had the options of that or standing out in the cold outside Forum (yuck. The forum, not the cold). I wasn't paying. And I didn't for some average yet exorbitant meal at Fiorano the new ristorante. Ok place. well made up and all but pretty expensive and unfortunately sunny's still has both the best bread and the best cheesecake.

Anyway The code. Anybody who's anybody in hollywood is there... Gandalf, Dr.Octavius Octopus, My good friend Chaucer, the quintessential french fellow (from godzilla, ronin, mi, etc) and still it was but average. Overhyped, that definitely killed it. And for a movie where you could be sure that over 50% of your audience has read the book, why make an exact replica? Both jurassic park and godfather that way were far better adaptations, though the lizards eat everything in the book...

So wasted yesterday with the wooden Tom Hanks and the oh not so sexy irritating french accent lady. Haven't even bothered to find out her name. She's not on the list of people I want to know or have pictures off. Then again neither is the one who shall not be named and i have both. Perhaps we'll run a images.google of Audrey Tautou after all...

To end today, three movies I need to watch over the next month. Superman Returns (purely for nostalgia), Pirates of The Caribbean - Dead Man's Chest, and Over the HEdge.

Chaucest Quotes

And it would come to pass that I'm forced to think faster and write sooner and update earlier to take advantage of the lack of persistence of memory of my audience. Things keep happening in my life that provoke me to write and apparently also provoke comments but I suppose that comes with the territory. Sat and wondered about good lines that I'd heard and that I use in daily life. Inspired by the movies of course. There is no Spoon is an obvious one and actually managed to pull it off a while ago when some one asked for one. Unfortunately I was the only one who burst out laughing, guffawed, cachinated, whatever for a minute then looked around in embarrassed silence and thought "philistines" to myself and sulked. Then there's Madagascar with the profound brain things inside my head... Ice age with you're an embarrassment to nature... It would appear that there are more abusive lines in the list which will be saved for abusive occasions.

Random googling and clicking got me to a point where I saw quotes by Chaucer. It should ideally remind one of Canterbury Tales or whatever bit of fiction he came up with but all I had as free association was A Knight's Tale. Fun movie and Paul Bettany as Chaucer, initially naked and vitriolic then just vitriolic clothed was simply brilliant. And below is the introductory speech (the line I like to oft quote is the pride, privilege and pleasure one)

Chaucer: You're good. You're very good. My lords, my ladies, and everybody else here not sitting on a cushion! [crowd roars]

Chaucer: Today... Today, you find yourselves equals. [crowd roars]

Chaucer: For you are all equally blessed. For I have the pride, the privilege, nay, the pleasure of introducing to you to a knight, sired by knights. A knight who can trace his lineage back beyond Charlemagne. I first met him atop a mountain near Jerusalem, praying to God, asking his forgiveness for the Saracen blood spilt by his sword. Next, he amazed me still further in Italy when he saved a fatherless beauty from the would-be ravishing of her dreadful Turkish uncle. [crowd, boo]

Chaucer: In Greece he spent a year in silence just to better understand the sound of a whisper. And so without further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give to you, the seeker of serenity, the protector of Italian virginity, the enforcer of our Lord God, the one, the only, Sir Ulllrrrich von Lichtenstein! [crowd roars]

Chaucer: Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week.

Brilliant one that.

Will read more Chaucer when I can.

Can't think of too many others considering I'm done with pancreas and now onto spleen. Which is perhaps a good thing.

This post started off with the idea of writing about some recent horticultural developments that have happened at home thanks to the Provider suddenly deciding that the house looks like a derelict, decrepit, dilapidated bhooth bungalow. But I need to eat and need a roof so will do it when he's not looking over my shoulder. Yes, don't look over my shoulder. Thank you.

No news. period.

Woke up at some abnormally early hour and tried figuring out the intricacies of treating pancreatic cancer desperately waiting for something to convince me that there was more to life than this. And what did that have to be but the local newspaper. The main paper has absolutely nothing to add to my life. The rat pack is about to be pulled up by the PM(I really like the man but his current hen-pecked status is hard to digest) for poor infrastructure... Again. Of course infrastructure might mean building a road on the big rat's soil which is a significant spanner in the works.

BMC (the medical college not the municipal corporation) is to be upgraded to the status of AIIMS. Then they can increase whatever astronomical percentage of reservation there exists and we can all go on hunger strike. Again.

In other things, guess where the football is, who's going to win the matches and who the footy is by only looking at a picture of his eyes. SMS your answer and win a chance to be mauled by mika.

Then the supplement which is even better. Are we ready to forgive Rahul M. Forgive, perhaps... forget? You kidding me? He's a crackhead. just like him. Except the latter got voted into office and did the whole I'm so sorry but it didn't affect my performance. Where? is the question. We need to have some singaporean rule to castrate/lash/eviscerate the druggie irrespective of whose kid he is. I do feel sorry for the family and all and perhaps happy that I don't have siblings too but sometimes stupidity has to pay the price. What noxious combination was that? Coke and heroin. You don't need to a rocket scientist to figure out that it's a suicide pill.

No more angst but a majority of the country is willing to forgive him and let him get into politicking. Caramba! the columbian embassy comes calling!

And Upen Patel of the I do my eyebrows, wax my chest and lip sync to Himmesh fame has decided that after Sallu bhai he too shall disrobe at every occasion. This time the excuse was that he was dancing and started sweating (duh!) and didn't want to slip due to all the moisture/wetness/sweatness. So he took off his shirt. I hunted for the nearest wall and attempted to bash my head in after I read it but like trying to slit one's own neck and wrists it's hard to do. How can you slip when you're sweating? It's not like one can cause puddles on stage... and even if one is puddling, how does taking a shirt off help? And zee music or some low budget music channel's put him up as Eye Candy of the month. Bleah.

Wizard of Id and Beau Peep are the only reasons to subscribe to it (outside of perhaps dad's obsession with Goren Bridge by Omar Sharif and Tannah Hirsch).

Time to go back and figure out if there's a way to cure stupidity. There have been a couple of ideas in the past. And of course there are the Darwin Awards. But there is still much research pending...

Stranger in a Strange Land

It is no doubt a strange world. There never was any hesitation in admitting that. And though this may be asking for trouble, 20 comments on the last post simply supports the axiom. Another point of note is that comment moderation is still on hold on this blog. I guess we all like the occasional insult. Then again considering what's been on at work this is like an elegy... eulogy? whatever it is that they do when you're alive and they want to sing praises of you... me, rather.

But my blog isn't the epicentre of the strangeness that pervades all existence and neither (all ye who think I'm self-obsessed) am I. In a country that gave rise to brains that gave rise to this... we also see the following sign of advertising suicide.

I nearly drove headlong into some 2 carts with assorted fruits when I saw that. And no it's not some BDSM accessory company but one of "the most reputed and respected jewellers" in the city. If you look closely you may find traces of their name in the lower right. But seriously...

Oh before I forget. The sign's in the heart of Jayanagar Shopping Complex. Can see a million well read uncles and aunties turning a mild shade of magenta and scurrying along as if nothing happened.

As for the first link, I had initially wanted to pick out which of those amul moppet thingies I liked best but it's simply too hard. Has some nice stories on how the cheeky little thing came to be, etc.

In other stuff that I found singularly interesting after I recovered from the shock of 20 comments was this little snippet a la dibs.

And to end it all we find that there's been a proliferation of chewing gum all over the country. and not just some really sad VPN or VHP or whatever chicklet type things we used to get some 5 years ago but Happydent and Orbit and Protex, with xylitol. I love the economics of 6 pieces of gum for 5 bucks but at the same time on the side of a carton... and all cartons of Orbit is inscribed in bold letters - WHOLESOME, NOURISHING, SATISFYING.

Why?

No news is good news

At last count there are 10 news beaming via satellite and other such mass hypnosis technologies into my tv. In a mildly biased order they are BBC, DD, NDTV 24x7, Headlines Today, Aaj Tak, CNBC, NDTV Profit, CNN-IBN, Times NOW, Star News (all languages). This is discounting the vernaculars which are intermittently watched depending on whether the state in question has elections, riots or both. Which reminds me... I'm now an officially registered voter of the Graduates' Constituency. I have absolutely no idea how it happened but I got a letter telling me to vote sometime today and that was followed by another telling me whom to vote for. Thought I'd go ahead and get that inedible ink thing done but then realised that I have little idea who I'm voting for and into what position which would make me a rather irresponsible voter. So if I can find out more in the next few hours will be proudly displaying my black mark to the world at large.

Now digression done and back to the ten channels. I still am not sure what's lurking in VHF band 2 and UHF and other tv related abbreviations but these are the big ten - tuned and ready for viewing. Like most capitalistic enterprises as long as demand equals supply, both price and quality are reasonable. The minute the supply shoots up (notice it never happens for the important things, just news channels and mobile phone companies) the prices fall and strangely so does quality. Now I would imagine that if I had a competitor I would either improve or kill the other guy and not become a cheap whore but it turns out that nowadays things just aren't going as I want them or imagine them to be. Need to have a chat with the puppeteer again I think.

The result of this news channel explosion is this - news items on the blossoming pirated books and cds industry, wardrobe malfunctions on national televison (but still gracias, carol), how and where to get dope, coke, anabolic steroids, rhino horn powder (for that strength and vitality), kiwi eggs and what not. Like the fable about lawyers running behind ambulances it would appear that so are these people. Every little thing gets sensationalised and an abundance of expert opinions will have Ambedkar's son yelling about the persistent need for reservation. and the daily sms polls... Are news channels good? Should wanna-be politicians not do coke? Are sushmita sen's you-know-whats real?

And then one intelligent programming director decided to get rakhi sawant and mika on the phone together. Laughed for exactly two minutes then started looking for something large and hard to throw at the tv. BESCOM intervened and shed load, saving both the idiot box and my savings. In addendum to this controversy, remember the paper I get? It's taken a poll on what's the best party greeting. Handshakes still rule followed by hugs and kisses. I miss the day where there was one black and white channel and 3 black and white papers. This feeling is of course superceeded by the fact that I love the internet and the colour it's brought into my life. Makes me a little bit of a hypocrite but then again did I ever say I wasn't one.

The world, as usual, is coming to an end.

The apartment complex

My dad has an Apartment Complex. No, he isn't a fat cat builder, a business baron, a marble maharaja or some sandstone sultan. He's a PhD in Organic Chemistry. Yes, run for your lives and while you're running a little sympathy my way would be just great. He doesn't own any large apartment conglomerate and live off the rent, in fact he doesn't even own a house. Why after 30 odd years in bangalore he doesn't own a house is a valid question. That's because he has the apartment complex. Before ye of little faith start bellowing catch 22s and other such cliches I do believe an explanation is required. The man can't live in a flat. He loses it. Gets itchy and claustrophobic and can't stand the fact that he can't stop a neighbours brat from listening to hiphop or heavy metal while all he has to do in the current situation is revoke my food/water/alcohol privileges and persist on listening to KL Saigal on a home theater system.

I'm not sure whence this belligerence to condominiums arose but it's there.

I've always wanted a flat. ClubHouse, Swimming Pool, tons of kids to play with (that was when I was a kid. Stop calling me Michael) blah blah. But I find myself now wondering if that's such a good idea outside of the economic benefit and that the tons of kids (then) would have grown up and might still be sporting. But just heard that a friend of mine's been tapping into the neighbour's wi-fi. Now she's conscientious enough that all she does is check mail but if I had a chance I'd be downloading movies/porn/both. And I guess the same is true for any sod like me who taps into my wi-fi. I don't have one yet but like the Bose home theater system, a Hummer, and my neurosurgery degree I will get it. So strike one.

Those adverts that came on tv about apartments with common walls freaked me out. It's bad enough having 10 meters between me and the man behind my house and being able to listen to him gargling (I hope it's gargling) every morning. Imagine him with only a wall between. The stuff that one gets to hear in apartments I think is what inspires the Ektaaaaa to make those intelligence sapping serials of hers. Marital/Extraaa-marital accord/discord, you get the drift. So that's strike two since I don't like listening to other people doing their thing. Whatever it is.

And then there's the man who names these buildings. The @#$@# is he thinking? I'd name a few but there are people who live in the ill-named apartments who then might issue a fatwa which seems to be the order of the day. Vande mataram. What were they thinking? The country's threatening to burn up over the reservation issue and the stock market's falling like superman strapped to a 2 ton block of kryptonite and the world now knows that a good bunch of the country's boys and girls are druggies... Oh I tried sniffing coke once but the ice cubes got stuck in my nose... and all the news channels (which I will trash in a subsequent post) can come up with is a story about a fatwa on not even Georgie W but vande mataram. Strike three. will find a cottage in some village and have a helipad to commute.

But there are some who've hit a goldmine with their flats. Take granny and granpa for instance. Religious, carnatic and cricket loving couple, tambrahm, found a 14 flat complex with 12 other brahms tam or otherwise in it. Party time! Lets have a light tea, muruku get together and discuss the Hindu's editorial. Well they love the place. There hasn't been meat cooked in that entire building for the past 15 years. Like I said, they love the place.

Some more jokes about a flat rate brewing in my head but will spare ye all. Later it is.

Millennium gratitude and i-Trip

First I'd like to thank God for being the guiding force in my life, I'd like to thank my parents for making sure I existed and existed long enough. The list of people who made this happen is both long and occasionally distinguished. Mynah for dropping the idea into my head, Torp for being an inspiration of sorts, Shil for giving me torp's site, chippy, sand, shiv,drafter, vinnie, dib, raja, meech, ashok, chait for dropping by often enough... Shantanu for being himself in the best and worst of times. I last but not the least would like to thank the Academy for giving me this wonderful opportunity to be here tonight. thank you, good night, we love you all.

Phew. A thousand hits with enough extras to ensure that my own frequent perusal of my writing hasn't contributed to the grand. It's a milestone I'm happy and Shantanu, you have been credited along with God in the previous paragraph so don't.

Don't what? Don't anything.

Just back from a trip to the heartland... homeland? isn't home where the...? anyway, to the heartland of all tamil iyer-dom - Palakkad. Well, strictly speaking to a village some where between Palakkad and Thrissur. Yes, Kerala - God's own country, Kanji-land, Mal-asia, the coconut republic, what you will... The village was Vadakencherry. Vadakencherry, Palakkad district, not to be confused with Vadakaancheri, Thrissur district (the subtle differences in pronunciation apart, the latter is blessed with a railway station and is hence, perhaps, better accessible). Why some god forsaken village you ask? A wedding, why else.

Now it all started with me and a bunch of guys traveling the overnight train to Palakkad a couple of days ago. The usual affluent bunch cribs about having to travel sleeper class and rub shoulders with the peasants were silenced when yours truly politely pointed out that the next time the rich could book their own tickets. So Palakkad arrived and so did a mitsubishi voyager that whisked us off the the only hotel in vadaken... Hotel Diana - Prop Mr. George Joseph Liquor License No <@^$%#*&> who cares as long as he has one. Got to see the usual rural scenery and one realises why it's called God's Own Country. Lush, Green, More water, literacy and coconuts than they know what to do with. It's really nice all the shades of green, for a city bred like me, but that joy of hitting the roots lasts about 3 hours. After which all that one wants is a nice glass and steel edifice to sit inside in air conditioning. So then we were again ferried across some village road replete with the smell of dried salted fish (karuvadu, for the more linguistic) and other random village smells. to another neighbouring village (Moolamcode) to land in front of a huge Kalyana Mantapam (will be referred to as Kurumba. Why? That's what it's called. Not to be confused with Caramba! which to be honest was my first reaction to the place). Now Kurumba is this huge building, interestingly planned since the ground floor, as one enters, has the dining hall. All the wedding business happens in the floor above which, ladies and gentlemen, hold your breath, is air-conditioned. Which is why kurumba elicited the caramba! An airconditioned choultry in the middle of nowhere. With women dressed in prim while pants and green shirts with "Passion at Work" boldly emblazonned and swabbing the joint 24/7 and the best payasam (fondly referred to as awesome payasam) chef I've ever known. But it's still a village. Fifty meters away is the village tank where buffaloes and man either wash clothes or bathe depending on species, dogs randomly make out (have pictures of that a la NatGeo) and the ground is wet. But that's a generic Kerala thing. It's not moist or damp, it's bloody wet. No wonder it grows on you. Moss. Like Kate. Everywhere. You can squeeze a handful of mud and get enough water and moss spores to take on the Sahara in a fair fight. Bleah.

The next couple of days were brief spells of consciousness between the gastronomic excesses and post prandial naps. Something about food that tugs at the genetic roots... Managed to escape from the iyers long enough to find me some beef and beer which only made things better but the iyers had the last laugh with the awesome payasam. (moment of staring into space remembering that wonderful taste).

Spent a few hours in Palakkad on the way back hunting the city for tamara thandu vathal - lotus stem fry - for the folks. Ended up finding it in "Mani's cafe - brahmin's coffee hotel" twenty meters from the station. Now one point I have to make here is that Kerala despite being god's own and extremely literate, etc, etc makes coffee that gives the railways a run for it's money. Amazing how a civilisation has gotten advanced enough that every man, woman and child can recite the malayalam manorama backwards and have enlightening interactions with the electronic-touch-screen railways information kiosks, but still can't make a decent cup of coffee, like the one I just had.

More cribs on the way back from the gentry about the hoi polloi. Silenced again and back to good ol Bangalore.

That's all folks.

Marshmallow chocolate fondue

Breathing multiple sighs of relief and mild to moderate joy for just as many reasons. Got home in the crashing rain in one piece as did the car... the blog hasn't turned into a bulletin board or an angst venting space no matter what certain people think and say... I'm not wet.

Sipping the current poison - Appy fizz. Carbonated apple juice is a nice trip. With vodka it's a nicer trip but that is not my fate. At least not this night.

Saw some living mutton advert rooting for the england soccer team and realised that the madness has begun. Or it had many rains ago and I just didn't notice. It's amazing how kids will play whichever game that has a world cup happening with equal enthusiasm every year. The only thing I haven't seen is steeple chase or floor gymnastics every leap year.... with hopefully good reason. The steeple chase is scary. Run some mini marathon then negotiate a hurdle to land in some ditch water. Sounds like a day in some BMP ignored parts of the city. Turns out that in history this equine endeavour got converted to initially man versus horse, then man versus man, then kenyan versus man. What is with every famine, HIV and civil war ravaged country in africa getting at least two medals every olympics? While our nation of a billion with great difficulty produces an army guy who can shoot straight. Now that I have an issue with. Thought all the people in the army could shoot straight... or at least should be able to... or at least that should be a reason for staying in the army. What is scarier than a man with a gun who can't shoot straight? May be a trigger-happy one...

Orkut is a new source of enjoyment. Yeah you meet old friends and if you're mildly nuts and feminine and you have a picture up expect the occasional 'fraandship' msg. But what drove me nuts today was a community that worshipped not some temple of eternal cocaine abuse (which is the poison of the day in certain civilisations) but forum. the single largest cause of traffic causing erstwhile posh Koramangala to become a commuter's nightmare. Doesn't help that it's size and popularity(for lack of a thesaurus) have made it a convenient landmark for every tourist who drops by. "Do you know forum? lets meet there..." and all I can do is invect under my breath and politely agree. But despite the saturday afternoon traffic didn't really have a bad time this evening there for two reasons. God, who intervened in my otherwise interference free existence to give me parking space withing 30 seconds; and the dessert counter at Transit (aptly named Indulge) has a chocolate fondue that looked a little like this... well a little smaller. Gives the options (at a surprisingly reasonable rate) of wafers, Little Hearts or Marshmallows (ta da!) to dip in. One word. Sinful. Worth every ounce of frustration that it took to get there and back. and gave rise to the thought that may be if we got rid of 90% of the people at forum, it just might have been a nice place to visit.

So it rained like there would be no tomorrow on the way back. All warm in the car I trawled along at some abysmally slow pace till like I mentioned earlier I got home. But not before some funny thing happened to me on my way home. Someone ran into my car. Now before you ask how that's amusing considering I've been accused of liking her more than anyone else in my life, you have to realise that he actually RAN into the car. not headlong but enough to initially make me want to get out and yell at whatever bumped into me but a quick look at the rear view got me not so quietly amused.

Miss America's on star world. after what happened to vanessa williams I think I'll take a look...

to grump or not to grump

It's never a good idea to blog when in a mildly grumpy as opposed to a you-know-what mood. But when people have labeled this spot as my personal angst bin or some such, one figures why the hell not. Why a grumpy mood, you ask? Well, why not is the answer. Of course while discussing such questions it is important to point out that sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. Yes is the answer. Hey that just perked me up. Not the sex but possibly the potential for cracking many more such kadis as we call them in the near future...

Bangalore's finally beginning to feel like it was all year long, 15 years ago. At least temperature-wise. The traffic and the aliens though are far to real to dispel as illusions. The aliens are soon turning out to be the source of joy in my life. To an extent that the BT(times, not torp)'s getting a stiff run for the money I pay for it. Might just stop subscribing to the paper and just look around and enjoy myself. They have of course successfully managed to push up the cost of living and push down the IQ... make hinglish the unofficial language of communication to an extent that shopowners now sheepishly, with hints of anticipation quietly ask, "Saar, kannada maathadtira!?" The question of course is directed at yours truly after some expletive subconsciously or unconsciously slips out. Hell, whatever gets us back to the roots. But that isn't what this post is about. Hence I apologize for the digression.

This post is about the cheap thrill philosophy that I've made the corner stone of my life. It's a simple thing that unlike fear factor, you can try at home. Would it be possible to derive as much joy from say, a walk in the rain (not for me, can't stand the wet stuff but it seems to be en vogue nowadays) to make not walking in say, Disneyland (again not for me but feel free to replace disneyland with anything from mauritius to wonder-la... whatever makes you happy)? Or say the joy of a solitary cup of coffee at the end of a day (this is me) when compared to... whatever, you get the drift, I hope. It's not a lack of ambition (despite it being a grievous thing that caused Caesar to grievously pay many honourable men) but rather an alteration in priorities. Will walk in the rain/drink my coffee/yada yada now and be happy and do all the mickey mouse stuff when I can afford it (in about 30 years at which time I hope to outgrow any similar desires). Dad (who's listening to Rang de Basanti [interesting what capitalisation can do] at potentially damaging volumes) did a reverse Brutus on me when I told him this and threatened to disinherit me from everything if i persisted with the lack of ambition... But whatever makes me happy.

On cheap thrills and inspired by HighFidelity here are the top five cheap and best things to eat in bangalore. According to me, at least before people start questioning the cheapness and bestness of the choices made here.

In no particular order here goes nothing

1. Mudde, Koli saaru - Rs 3/mudde. KR Road near BIT.

2. Beef Biryani - Rs 30. Fanoos, Johnson market - appendix - beef rolls same place

3. sheek kebabs - unknown meat - Rs 5/- somewhere under the KR Market fly over

4. Any locality specific chaat cart.

5. Little samosa joint next to the coffee day in 7th block Jayanagar. Grouchy marx behind the counter but good stuff.

Close inclusions were Food Street, VV Puram and Ebrahim Sahib Street (parallel to commercial) but vegetarianism is too low on the food chain for me. Again it's me who's opinion this is. So if you're vegan or something that's good, I'm sure there is a place for you in this biosphere and that you serve a purpose in the grand scheme of things but I would much rather have good quality protein, thank you.

PS: I'm sure that irritating reiterating and often nauseating tune that accompanies most punjabi neo techno has irked a majority of us. It took arrehman to do some jumbling of notes in his head and make the title track of RdB singularly catchy...

Some sleep...

...rhythm altering bug is in town. Or at least in my room. Which would explain the unearthly hour posting with coffee for company. Due to some physical alteration in biofilters that have been plaguing my life for the past month or so water is finally potable. Not sure if it's clean but it's potable so I'm not complaining. Have some privileges revoked at home after I was loudly amused at dad trying to open a bottle of shampoo and failing miserably. Which might also explain this early morning when he's still asleep or groggy or in that quasi awake state that is incredible to wallow in.
Grey's Anatomy continues to enrich my life in more ways than one. First the justification on the silver screen or whatever colour the box is euphemistically referred to, of my existence and philosophy. Haven't seen a better representation than Becker. Then again Grey's is about Surgery so hooray. The second reason is Ellen Pompeo. Not the best looking person on tv today but there's something about her that's different... and appealing...
This sudden fear of posting anything technical, musical, philosophical, socially productive for fear that Shantanu will comment longer than the post and my good friends at Google would then may be cancel my blog and hand it over to him since his ip address has contributed more bytes (potential for pun there but ignored) than mine has. Possible but this is a creative stream that shall not die but go on to form a mighty river and no beaver dam (again potential for pun) is going to stop it.
Read a scary editorial the other day about searches on the internet and how shockingly the highest searches for 'sex' are from saudi arabia or 'porn' from israel or 'danish cartoons' from pakistan or some such. And this authentic data is... you guessed it right google's. It's times like these (and many others) that I wish I was in the matrix. Damn, if there was no spoon I'd just use a fork or do thair saadam with my hands. I don't care. Just want to sometimes pick up a phone and say,

"Tank, I need an exit."

PS Shantanu, if you trash any more posts I'll either comment moderate or subscribe your email to gigabytes of free daily gay porn.